


Black and Blue

by Skyler10



Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who & Related Fandoms, Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: (by Jimmy), Alternate Universe, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Abuse, Memories, Nightmares, Past Abuse, Past Domestic Violence, Past Relationship(s)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-24
Updated: 2017-03-24
Packaged: 2018-10-09 22:27:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,537
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10423152
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Skyler10/pseuds/Skyler10
Summary: While staying over at John’s house, Rose has a nightmare about the day Jimmy gave her a black eye and she walked into a blue sky future without him.





	

**Author's Note:**

> For doctorroseprompts: “One wakes up with a nightmare when they’re already sharing a bed” and “Rose remembering Jimmy Stone and the Doctor comforting her.” Also this photoset: http://skyler10fic.tumblr.com/post/158417075974

Rose awoke with a start. This wasn’t her room. There was someone next to her. John. It was John’s bedroom. She had stayed here last night… after their date. She was dating John now. Had been for a while. John, who would never hit her. Who loved her. Had loved her their whole lives, if he was telling the truth and not just sweet talking her… No, this was John. Not Jimmy. No more Jimmy. Not ever.

She tried to slow her breathing as she sat up. He hadn’t woken up, which she didn’t know whether to be grateful for or a tad bit disappointed that all the romantic movies she’d watched were a lie. She shook her head at her own folly and leaned back against the headboard, watching him sleep.

This wasn’t the first time she had slept in his bed. There had been once before. But this was the first time they’d _slept_ together. And of course, her recurring nightmare was back to ruin it. Well, it wasn’t so much a nightmare as a memory. A blur of this past year and all she had been through. And how she had ended up here in this same bed almost exactly a year ago.

 

* * *

Once upon a time, Rose Tyler had had it all. At least, that’s the way it must have seemed to the rest of London. She had a rock star boyfriend and a prestigious position at her father’s company and a doting mother and a genius kid brother. The music tabloids that covered Jimmy and the Stones described the lead singer’s girlfriend as a “princess” with a “charmed life.” They pulled out her old modeling photos from when she was a teenager. They commented on what she wore to Jimmy’s concerts and how often she appeared by his side.

But the real story – the story she would never let them see – was what happened away from the public eye.

Only one person ever knew that it was even going on. Not her family or the press or her shallow and competitive coworkers that she called “friends” for lack of a better word.

But for some reason, she knew she could trust John, her best mate since childhood. Together with Mickey, the three of them used to cause all sorts of trouble at school. But Mickey had a wife and a baby now, and a life far away from the spotlight that followed Rose. John, however, had stayed. For some unexplainable reason, he always seemed to be right there at the exact moment she needed him. His sister said it was a crush, but Rose knew better. He was utterly kind, the most loyal man she’d ever known, and he was far out of her league. Rose was nothing more than a “socialite” (as the tabloids called her) with a deceptively fancy title at a health drink company. John was a serious scientist. He was going to change the world. He certainly wasn’t interested in some blonde heiress.

Besides, she had Jimmy. Until… she didn’t. Until the night she had had enough.

What no one knew – or rather, no one cared to know – about the lead singer of Jimmy and the Stones was that he had a drinking problem. What Rose hadn’t known until shortly before that fateful night was that it didn’t end with alcohol. The drinking she could deal with. The drugs though… they changed him, now that she could look back in clarity. No longer would he stay up late with her, crooning about his black, tortured soul and how she was his blue sky. Now it was just parties she wasn’t invited to and coming home to scream at each other and charges for destruction of property from hotels she’d never stayed in. Drugs turned the press photos from “picture perfect couple attends awards show” to “rock god caught with ANOTHER mistress” and promises of “juicy details inside.”

It was so obvious now, she had no idea how she didn’t see it at the time. But that’s what they all say, she supposed.

The final straw was actually more of a steady incline. He grabbed her wrist until she needed to cover the marks with long sleeves. He stopped asking for consent before he got rough in the bedroom. Soon he stopped caring what she wanted at all. He just took. She shrugged off the little things: Of course he could order for her at restaurants because they had been together so long, he’d know what she’d like. It didn’t really matter that he forgot to do the things around the house he said he would do. He was busy with the new album and tours and press and promo. She noticed the money missing from their account, but this life was expensive and perhaps it was a birthday present?

No present came on her birthday. He wasn’t even in the country. And then one day he was. And she shouted at him and he told her to fuck off and she screamed louder and broke a glass and he shook her by the shoulders and she slapped him. Hard.

She tried to block it all out but there was no erasing the next memory. This is always when she woke up in her recurring nightmare:

As his fist connected with her eye.

 

* * *

 

She realized she was weeping now. Again. Still. A year later.

The anger she had worked through with counseling and plenty of help from her family and closure. But the memory-nightmares still came occasionally. They left her feeling weak and scared and small. They had receded of late, replaced by the uneasy bliss of second chances in the form of John. Sweet, bumbling, nerdy, rude, impossible, patient John. Falling for him was nothing like the tilt-a-whirl that had been falling for Jimmy. Falling for John was more like springtime. As if everything in her life had been frozen asleep and she was just now gently waking up to a world of warmth and color.  

Speaking of, he was stirring. Opening his eyes. Spotting her tears running freely down her cheeks as she stroked his hair with the lightest touch possible.

“Sorry,” she whispered.

“No, no,” he whispered back, voice rough. “What’s wrong, love?”

He had told her he loved her before but never used that endearment. It made her heart skip in her chest.

She tried to find the words, but just stared down at her hands until he sat up and took them into his own.

“It was just a dream,” she finally answered. He stroked the back of her hand with his thumb.

“Was it?” He knew her too well.

“No,” she admitted with a little shake of her bedhead curls. “A memory. The first night I stayed here.”

“Ah.” He wrapped his arms around her and kissed her temple. This, this right here was exactly the medicine she required. When he just held her. Without requiring anything else of her. There was no place she felt safer than in his arms. And it had taken that black eye to figure that out.

 

* * *

 

Rose had stood there in their kitchen, shocked, after Jimmy’s punch. She cradled her cheek and stared, words outside of her capabilities at the moment. It was a bucket of ice water on her plentiful excuses on his behalf, her blind love, her explanations for all of his failings. He shouted at her some more as he stormed away, upstairs to his studio, that she’d better do such and such or else, but she didn’t hear him.

She picked up the bag she had packed “just in case” he was going to whisk her away to some romantic belated birthday getaway like he used to do. She grabbed her purse, her oversized sunglasses, and both sets of mobile phones and keys off the entryway table. His keys and mobile she dropped in a rubbish bin a block away.

It was amazing how physically easy it was. Walking out. She just did it. Slipped on her sunglasses and rolled her bag behind her and walked. She walked out their front door and down the street and to the Tube. She slid her Oyster card at the turnstile and kept walking, wheeling her expensive luggage behind her as if she really were going on some exotic holiday. Instead, she stopped at the split in the Underground staircase. People pushed past her on both sides, jostling her back and forth, but she didn’t notice. She just stared at the map of colorful lines intersecting and interchanging.

That’s when she realized leaving wasn’t the hardest part, practically speaking. It was where to go.

She knew she could turn up on her parents’ doorstep, but that would mean hours of explanations and coming back here to find him and a possible trial of her parents for the murder of a dearly departed famous young musician. No, best wait until the dust settled to confront her family. Mickey and Martha wouldn’t be much better and they already had their hands full with a sick infant that wouldn’t sleep. That left John. Except John was really her first choice. He was exactly who she wanted right now. Her exhausted body craved nothing more than his hugs and his voice and his very comfortable sofa and a movie that he would talk through with witty commentary and trivia. She’d throw popcorn at him to get him to shut up and he’d pop it into his mouth as if she’d missed her target.

She must have looked like a nutter, letting the ghost of a smile peek out as she stared at the map. It occurred to her that that was probably the least concerning thing about her appearance as her face began to throb. The shock and adrenaline were wearing off.

She ducked into the public toilet and caught sight of herself in the mirror. Messy hair, tear-stained cheeks, and a full-on shiner under her right eye. It took a few minutes of staring before she could tear herself away. She was “that girl.” She wasn’t sure what the phrase meant even as it popped into her head, only that people were beginning to notice the black and blue on her face and give her odd looks. Some of pity, most of curiosity. She slipped back on her sunglasses before someone recognized her and navigated to the right train platform. The one that would take her to John.

She hadn’t seen him in ages. Jimmy didn’t like it. Didn’t want her to see any other men, even her best mate she’d known since childhood. She made a thousand apologies to John, and she could always hear the hurt in his voice on the other side of the phone call even as he told her he understood and was always there for her if she changed her mind. But now, she was free. She could spend time with anyone she wanted. No curfew. No interrogation. No being called a “whore” every time a text showed up on her mobile…

Text. She should text John.

She shot off a quick message before she lost mobile service completely on the train. The doors opened right as she hit “send.” Hopefully he’d be free and home tonight. If he wasn’t, she had no idea what she’d do next. Or where she’d go.   

 

* * *

 

“Do you remember what I said that day, Rose?” John traced his fingers up and down her arm in a soothing rhythm. Dawn was peeking through the sheer curtains.

“Tell me again,” she prompted, needing to hear it in his voice.

“I said I was glad you came to me because I will always be here to protect you. That this was home as long as you needed it to be. And you said…”

“That I didn’t need protecting. I just needed a place to crash.” She laughed a little at the memory of those words. How wrong she had been. She needed so much more from him. And all her friends and family. She’d been trying to be strong alone for so long…

“Well, that, yes,” he chuckled lightly along with her. “But you also said that you came here because you knew I would say those things. That this felt right.”

“I was so relieved when you opened your door, and you took me in, and I know I had no right to ask it of you, but you said…”

“I said, ‘I won’t pressure you, Rose, but if you want to talk about it, you know I’m listening.’” He nuzzled her cheek where the bruise had turned from black and blue to purple before it healed last year. “The offer still stands you know, if you want to talk about your nightmares, I’ll always be here to chase the monsters away. I just wish that I could take them away completely.”  

She was silent for a long while, but finally turned to look up at him.

“I think that’s when I knew.”

“Knew what?” He searched her eyes for the answer, but came up short.

“That you loved me. I thought it was impossible, someone like you seeing anything more in me than a selfish brat who got what she deserved.”

“Oh Rose, no, that’s not you at all—”

She cut him off with a light hand on his chest. “I know that now, but at the time, it was just… anyway. That’s the night I knew. You stayed up with me until I was done crying and held me and made me watch those animal documentaries as you did the silly voices and carried me to bed in here. And I trusted you completely.”

“’S what best mates do.” He shrugged.

“It’s what Prince Charmings do,” she corrected.

“Well,” he scratched the back of his neck, “if you say so.”

The fact that this past year had been anything but a fairytale was left unspoken between them, for which she leaned up to kiss him in gratitude. He was all too happy to return the favor. Soon, though, her kisses turned desperate. He slowed them down and pulled away the slightest bit. “It’s alright, Rose,” he whispered. “I’m here. It’s ok.”

She breathed in his calming scent and grounded herself with the feel of his sheets and his hair between her fingers and his breath on her cheek.

“Just… hold me?” The question came out so small, almost childlike. Not unlike it had a year ago after she’d treated her black eye with his makeshift icepack of frozen vegetables.

“Always, love,” he promised. They scooted down on the bed to lie together. She kissed him once more before resting her head on his chest. He brushed his fingers through her hair, knowing it comforted her.

“Tell me about the stars you study, John. What are their names?”

As the black of night turned to blue day, he told her stories of the sky, stars and galaxies and supernovas and comets and constellations. Stories of colors and lovers and time more ancient than they could imagine.

Time and each other. That’s what they needed, and all they had.

Healing is never easy, but it is better with two.

**Author's Note:**

> While in this fic, John is a good friend and boyfriend to Rose, it's important to note that he isn't intended to be any sort of savior figure. It's Rose who gets help and does what she needs to do. Also, while I stand by the lines about not going it alone, I realize not everyone has a "John" in their lives. But this is a hurt/comfort fic, so John was an essential element for the story (not to mention that's it's a Ten x Rose AU). 
> 
> All this to say, if you or someone you know has been through something like what Rose goes through here, know that there is help available. One place to start is https://www.domesticshelters.org, where they have links to all sorts of books and resources to learn more.


End file.
